


The Funkmeister

by Bolt_DMC



Series: The Bolt Chronicles [10]
Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Dancing, Humor, Light Angst, Music, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22585669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Rhino's in the mood to shake his hamster behind to some 60s-70s funk classics, but he needs the cat's help to run the CD player. He then decides to see if he can get Mittens to join him. Can he break through her reticence? Primary cultural references include music by James Brown, Stevie Wonder, Sly and the Family Stone, George Clinton, Parliament, and -- Tom Jones? And... Johann Sebastian Bach? Yes to all.
Relationships: Mittens & Rhino (Disney: Bolt)
Series: The Bolt Chronicles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041639
Comments: 25
Kudos: 16





	The Funkmeister

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: August 2009
> 
> For Rocio O.

1.

Rhino was dozing, plastic-ball-ensconced, in front of the television, and the rest of the farmhouse's residents were out, so Mittens pretty much had the place to herself. The cat lay sprawled on her back listening to Johann Sebastian Bach’s first solo cello suite, its stylized dance movements being the perfect mix of head and heart on a lazy, late Saturday morning. About the only criticism one could possibly level at this splendid piece was that its Allemandes, Jigs, and Sarabandes don’t readily lend themselves to dancing. Even if one could, Mittens wasn’t much for tripping the proverbial light fantastic, nor in fact for any sort of strenuous exercise right now. As the final hearty descending arpeggio brought the work to a close, the cat stared up at the popcorn ceiling and pensively licked a paw.

“Boy -- I dunno what’s with me lately," she thought. “I’ve been feeling as spent as a shiny nickel ever since we got back from that Paris trip. I didn’t think jet lag lasted more than a couple days, max." Mittens stretched and yawned. “Then again, I explored every inch of that city except the sewer system, didn’t I? Big, fun place to get lost in, too. Nothin’ like it, not even New York, really.” The cat rolled onto her side. “Yeah -- maybe that’s it. I’m just exhausted from all that healthy exercise I never indulge in. Who knows -- might feel a little better if I got off my duff more than once a year and got the old ticker pumping. Does wonders for Wags, at least.” She shook her head dismissively. “Eh -- maybe later. Never put off tomorrow what you can put off today, like I always say sometimes.”

Mittens’s reverie was interrupted by an energetic spherical whirlwind. It was Rhino, awake from his TV-induced snooze and looking for some sort of new adventure.

“Hey, cat!” he chirped vivaciously. "Surprised you’re not takin’ in a disc of tunes. What’cha doin’ -- woolgathering?”

Mittens grinned. “Do you see any sheep around here?” she quipped. “And as far as music goes, you just missed a keeper by the first of the ‘Three B’s’. Though if you stick around a while, you might cross paths with a little Brahms and Beethoven, too."

“Since we’re on the subject of music,” said the hamster, “Much as I like a good symphony now and then, right now I’m more in the mood to take in some decades-old funky stuff. But running the CD player is a wee bit challenging for a little guy like me. Maybe you can oblige?”

“Really?” asked Mittens, shaking her head with a giggle. “I wouldn’ta pegged you as someone who needs to get their groove thang on. You always struck me as being more white-bread than a kiddie’s PB and J sandwich.”

“Au contraire, mein Herr!” harrumphed Rhino. “I’m an enthusiastic devotee of Afro-American pop from way back. Not only am I part wolf and part wolverine -- there’s a healthy dollop of panther in my family tree. You knew that, didn’t you?”

The cat rolled her eyes. “If that family tree of yours gets any bigger,” she wisecracked, “It’s gonna need transplanting to Sequoia National Park.”

“No, no -- I’m serious!” Rhino protested. “Take a gander at this James Brown action!” The little rodent spun, wiggled, and even made an ill-advised attempt at doing the splits in an earnest, yet horribly clumsy endeavor to mimic the Godfather of Soul. As pretty much anyone could have predicted, the splits went especially badly, and Rhino landed on his hindquarters with a thud that shook his hamster ball. He sat for a moment before slowly rolling onto his back with all four feet in the air.

Mittens became concerned when the little rodent didn’t move for several seconds. “Are you hurt?” she asked hesitantly while giving the ball a gentle nudge with her paw.

“I feel good!” laughed Rhino. He rocked once and jumped back up onto his feet, making a “ta-dah” motion as if the whole move had been planned.

The cat giggled. “The hardest working hamster in showbiz, that’s you all right.”

“Hoo-ah! I am… uh… The Funkmeister!” he panted. Rhino closed his eyes and pressed his paws flat together, striking a somewhat meditative pose. “I am a firm believer in the phrase ‘Dance like nobody’s watching’. My motto, if you will.”

“All well and good for you, at least,” Mittens countered. “Except that you’ve got an audience of one over here that can’t unsee your transgressions against terpsichorean excellence.”

“Yeah, yeah -- put the snark thesaurus away and make with the music already,” said Rhino with a dismissive paw wave.

The cat hoisted herself up onto her feet. “Okay, pal. Lemme see what Penny’s mom’s got in that magic CD rack of hers.” The two friends respectively padded and rolled off to the bookcases full of jewel-boxed discs. “Hmmm,” said Mittens as she dug through the various options. “Oh wait -- here’s something that’ll get your hamster feet hoppin’.”

2.

One opened CD case and several pushed buttons later, the song “Get Up” by James Brown came bubbling into the room.

“Ooooh!” exclaimed the hamster. “You hit my sweet spot dead center!” Rhino began shimmying inside his plastic ball with all the vigor of a bustling beehive.

“Wow, rodent! That’s some pretty stylish booty shaking you’ve got goin’ on,” said Mittens with a surprised chortle. “Didn’t know you had it in you!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, cat!” laughed Rhino as he spun his ball counterclockwise. “I’m a veritable fountain of surprises.”

“I believe it,” she chuckled. “Just when I think I’ve got you pegged, you toss another screwball my way.”

“C’mon, Mittens!” said the hamster excitedly. “How’s about you let your hair down and dance with me. This isn’t exactly an activity meant for one.”

The cat wrinkled her face with a wry grin. “Sorry, my friend, but I’m not drunk enough to consider makin’ a horse’s tuchus of myself. Besides, doesn’t dancing with a black kittycat bring you seven years’ bad luck?”

Rhino was undeterred, however. “Uh-uh! You’re not foolin’ me one teeny little bit. Heck, I can see your foot tapping from here. Come on now -- you know you can’t resist!”

Mittens looked down to see her left front paw marking time to the itchy beat. “Um -- oh! Oh that!” she said with a weak chuckle. “I’ve… uhh… I’ve been sick with a nasty virus lately. And it’s been makin’ my foot break out in spasms. Maybe it’s Tom Jones Tremens, or Snu, or something.”

“You’re puttin’ me on!” snickered the little rodent while giving her a dubious, askance look. “What’s ‘Snu,’ pussycat?”

“Pretty sure it’s the Tremens,” replied Mittens quickly. “Happens to me all the time. It’s not unusual once the right music starts.”

“Not a chance, cat!” exclaimed the hamster with a knowing grin. “The only ailment with the side effects you’re showing would be a raging case of Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie-Woogie Flu!”

Mittens laughed. “Okay, okay -- you got me fair and square. I’ll go over and restart the song -- but I’m only doin’ one dance, capiche?”

Perhaps not surprisingly, “one dance” led to several more. After finishing off their James Brown fest with “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag,” they bounced gleefully to “Dance to the Music” and “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf)” by Sly and the Family Stone, George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog,” Parliament’s “Give up the Funk,” and “Superstition” by Stevie Wonder. Cat and hamster twirled and swaggered to the beat, giving in to the music’s irresistible rhythms and tunes.

3.

Sometime later, the two critters lay across from each other, fully spent from nearly an hour’s worth of gyrations and capering.

“Ahhh! Nice to know I can coax myself to do that without a snoot full of sauce in me,” said Mittens lazily. “Thanks, Rhino. I really needed that. I get wound up a little too tight sometimes, and I really have to learn how to throw away the girdle and let everything hang loose every once in a while.”

The little rodent giggled. “Heh -- no worries. You did fine. You’ve just gotta allow stuff like this to happen naturally. It’s there -- just don’t stand in its way.”

As a contrast to the energetic fare that had characterized the past hour, Stevie Wonder’s “I Believe (When I Fall in Love)” began to pour through the speakers, its knowing mix of sadness and cautious optimism turning the cat wistful and pensive.

“I dunno,” she sighed. “There’s a lot about living here that I like. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t find a better place to be. Great friends, yummy food, a comfy bed, and the nicest humans you could wish for. But -- eh -- I don’t know quite how to say it, but there’s something missing from my life.” Mittens rolled onto her side and stared blankly out the window. “That hunky cat I met in Paris -- you remember, Berlioz. I told you about him, right? He dredged up all those emotions I had shoved down into the pit of my stomach. All that stuff I like to pretend I don’t feel.”

“Yup,” said Rhino. “You’ve become an old hand at squashing your feelings away. And it works, but only for a little while. Can’t run away from what’s inside you, Mittens. And you know that just as well as I do. Tapping your toes in spite of yourself is only the tip of a very big and chilly iceberg.”

“I know, I know,” mewled the cat sadly. “But how do I solve that kind of problem without catching the next redeye flight back to the land of fancy-dan cognac and cheese that smells like feet?”

The doggy door made a loud clunking sound, followed almost immediately by a spirited white canine presence. Bolt, just back from his daily conditioning run, loped into the study with a wagging tail and a friendly smile.

“Hey, you two,” he said jovially. “What’cha been up to? You look like a partied-out couple at Dinny’s Diner at four in the morning.”

Rhino glanced over at Mittens with a knowing smile. “Heh -- who knows? Maybe you should stop looking wistfully at the dumpster across the street when there’s good eatin’ in the one you’ve found.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re on about,” said the cat with a frown.

The hamster waggled a paw at Mittens. “You’re a smart girl -- you’ll figure it out sooner or later.” Rhino turned his ball and dropped on all fours. “And now, I must go. There’s a TV in the other room that’s not gonna watch itself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Runner up, Reddit Best of 2020/FanFiction Award, Fluff/Hurt/Comfort category.


End file.
